


The Unwilling Seduction of Shauna Vayne

by Raiko



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Humor, Porn With Plot, written during Institute of War lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 00:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14437503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raiko/pseuds/Raiko
Summary: Draven decides to prove to Vayne that he can be quite sexy when he puts the effort into it.And it works. A little too well, in fact.





	1. Chapter 1

Contrary to what most people thought, Vayne liked men quite a bit. She was just picky about the type of men she liked, and her priorities tended to keep those urges at bay anyhow.

She liked big men – Tall, broad men. The men she liked were strong and had grown out of the need to prove it; they were starting to thicken through the waist, but could still frighten away the boys stuck in the 'proving it' stage. She admired the way that a man's muscle was easier to see than a woman's, just below the skin without curves to get in the way. Shoulders, calves, abdominals – they slid and twisted like an anatomy and physiology lesson.

She supposed that, if pressed, Draven could be considered attractive for this reason: strictly in appearance. The Glorious Executioner's personality was far too tiring for her tastes despite his well-built physique. Though he was probably around her age, he still carried himself like a cocky teenager. Unlike the no-nonsense attitude she harbored towards her pursuits, Draven was determined to make everything an unnecessary spectacle as if the world revolved around him. Whether he was acting as an ally or an enemy, his bizarre sense of humor and narcissism were prevalent.

That, and she couldn't stand his mustache.

But that being said, she did kind of like his arms.

Donning his usual attire, she could see the way bands of muscle on his upper arms twitched when he twirled his axes around. The muscle reminded her of thick rope, and even the parts covered by his bracers became pleasing to the eye when he was in combat. Though she would never admit it, when he swiveled his wrists her stomach twisted right along with them, and the tattoos that ran down his limbs only accentuated his masculinity. Vayne wanted to trace a finger along them just to watch him squirm and shudder and possibly shut him up.

But she found this sort of attraction strange, because Draven definitely wasn't her type. He was vulgar, cocky, crazy, and just a little too desperate.

But somehow his faults were what made him appealing, and maybe this had something to do with the arms thing. Draven unapologetically was who he was and his body reflected that: stockpiled muscle under tanned skin and battle scars as proof of him clawing his way through the ranks of the Noxian army, making a name for himself alongside his brother with a trail of bloodshed. He was the definition of dysfunction, yet had somehow drawn to him a small collection of individuals who made sure that he functioned well enough, mostly Darius keeping him in check along with a few of his fellow Noxians whom he had earned the respect of despite the way he chose to carry himself.

Draven would make a horrible boyfriend.

But might make for an interesting lover.

It had been a long time since she'd been with anyone –  _months_  – and since Draven was already always casually insulting/flirting with her on the Fields of Justice, she was reasonably certain he would agree to any arrangement she proposed if she ever lost her mind and did so. Vayne never expected her quiet musings would ever personify themselves, but thinking about it now, maybe she had been considering Draven longer than she'd really been aware.

.

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Running into other champions from the league wasn't all that unheard of. So when Draven, followed by Katarina and Talon of House du Couteau, burst into the very Bilgewater pub she'd been sitting in, she hadn't paid them the slightest of mind. As if on cue, Draven had noisily proclaimed his arrival to the patrons inside by quite literally kicking the door open and announcing, "Draven's here, baby!" His traveling companions seemed less than impressed however, and the Sinister Blade promptly shoved her elbow into his back to get him out of the way.

"Ouch, that hurt, Kitty Kat," Draven whined, giving the redhead a mock-injured look. Katarina in turn rolled her eyes.

"Go and get us some beers already," Katarina told him before pointing out an empty table near a worn target board, designating where her and Talon would be when he fetched their drinks.

Vayne hadn't made any attempt to acknowledge them from her shadowy position at the bar, quite content to enjoy her drink on her own. In fact, she was particularly sure that the trio hadn't noticed her at all until Draven had approached the bartender and ordered for the three of them. It took him a bit to actually realize she was there, eyebrows raising in curiosity when he finally spotted her.

"Hey there, Vayne," he greeted when he noticed her, propping an elbow onto the bar with the foamy sound of the beer tap being put to work in the background. "Haven't seen you around here before. What brings you to these parts?"

From behind her red lenses, her eyes flicked to his arm for a moment before forcing her attention back to his face and the aggravating mustache splayed across his upper lip.

"It's not any of your concern," she said curtly, taking another delicate sip of from her glass to illustrate her disinterest. Truthfully, Bilgewater was only a stop in her travels due to her next ship leaving in the morning. She assumed the same of Draven and the other two, but even so, she wasn't keen on letting others in on her personal itineraries.

"Alright, geez," Draven replied, giving her a rather pointed look as the bartender promptly delivered three pitchers. She tried her best not to stare when he somehow was able to grip all three handles with one hand, forearm muscles flexing with the newfound weight. "It wouldn't kill you to be a bit more friendly, you know," he told her with an exaggerated frown before turning to rejoin his companions.

Vayne shot an annoyed glare towards the axe-wielder's backside before resuming her solitary drinking activities, the sound of the three Noxians performing a celebratory toast obnoxiously prominent in the background. Though she supposed that so long as they didn't pay her any extra mind, she wouldn't be obliged to do so either.

That is, until she heard the sharp impact of steel embedding itself into wood.

Knowing all three to be quite skilled in some sort of combat requiring blades, Vayne's curiosity got the best of her and she allowed herself to peek over her shoulder at the little game they'd made of the dart board. Talon had sent a knife cleanly to the center of the target with accuracy that rivaled the queen of the Freljord, though his two comrades appeared bored with his display of skill. The assassin let out a triumphant huff before relenting to the sofa for the next player's turn.

"You really have no sense of flair, do you, Talon," Katarina mentioned, procuring one of her own knives from the holster on her leg. She let it zip to the right instead of straight towards the wall, bouncing off of Draven's chestplate and then Talon's shoulder guard before joining his own blade in the center. The Sinister Blade expelled a hearty laugh at Talon's less than amused expression after being caught off guard, teasing him with a haughty snicker.

"You're unnecessary tactics are precisely the reason why I had to learn how to sew," Talon grumbled even if she hadn't put a hole in his cloak this time.

"That's not helping your case at all," the redhead sneered haughtily.

"Not bad," Draven commented, giving the woman a small bout of mock applause before stepping up to the plate. "But let Draven show you how it's really done. Let me borrow a few of those, Kitty Kat."

Katarina muttered something along the lines of, "Stop calling me that," before relinquishing all the visible knives she carried on her person. Vayne raised a brow as Draven transferred one of the many blades from his left hand to his right, giving it a few small tosses into the air as if to gauge its weight.

"Now," he grinned broadly, and Vayne swore that for a split second he sent her dark corner a glance as if he were addressing her personally. "Watch this."

The knife in his right hand went sailing towards the board, completely missing the mark in the center. But before Vayne could begin to question his targeting abilities, he sent another from the small collection in his left hand to right and repeating the process. By the third toss, she was sure he'd been missing on purpose, though his warped accuracy wasn't what was currently had her attention.

It was mesmerizing to say the least. The man was like a machine, maneuvering his left arm to send a blade careening at the perfect height to catch with his right and shooting it cleanly through the air towards the board. She supposed what he was doing was akin to juggling, though the term wasn't nearly as attractive sounding as it deserved. With every flick of his wrist Vayne felt her insides churn, fixated by the muscles of his tanned arms as they continued to move. They were defined, but not grossly so, and even with the dim tavern lighting, she could see them swell and recede with the repetition. And to make matters worse, the fluid movements were only further enhanced by the intricate lines on his skin. Her eyes roved and traced the ink up his arms and across his shoulders towards his face, which still appeared concentrated on his task despite how effortless he made it seem. Against her better judgment, she continued to follow them, this time taking the route down his neck and using the portions exposed through his chestplate as a guide. Though his usual attire left a lot to be imagined, it didn't stop her from mapping them with her imagination, getting all the way to his hipbones until realizing how dangerous it would be for her to continue.

The Night Hunter had unconsciously downed the rest of her drink while spectating, the rim masking the direction of her gaze. By the time her eyes had worked their way back up, the last knife had hit the dart board and Draven looked quite content with his handiwork. Though he had missed all the conventional marks, he had succeeded in artistically forming a perfect  _D_  around the two lonely knives in the center and causing Katarina and Talon to shake their heads in knowing. Vayne only tore her eyes away after his trademark Draven laugh brought her back, though the modest heat that had formed between her legs remained. She slammed her empty glass on the counter in frustration, barely stopping herself from breaking it.

"Whiskey," she snarled at the bartender who jumped at the sudden animosity in her voice. "Triple shot."

"Y-Yes ma'am!" he complied, fixing her drink in record time and setting it in front of her with shaky hands. Vayne refused to let her neck rotate as she downed the dark liquid in a few desperate gulps, hoping the burn in her stomach would distract her from any unnecessary thoughts. It was after two more drinks that she decided it would be best to leave the bar altogether, since her hearing was apparently choosing to filter out everything  _but_  Draven amidst all the noise.

Leaving a few folded bills on the counter, the she tried her best to ghost her way through the crowd as to not draw any attention to herself. She did quite well until she reached the door, where the whiskey-induced audacity combined with frustration finally reared its ugly head. She slammed oaken door shut with as much force as Draven had used an hour earlier, the abuse causing a wiry string of one of the old framed photos on the wall to finally give and shatter to the floor.

"What's her problem?" Katarina wrinkled her nose, having caught sight of the familiar braid while the Night Hunter had been traversing the tables towards the exit.

"Who knows," Draven shrugged, hopelessly oblivious to the fact that he was at fault. He gave the door one last glance before dismissing the thought, raising his pitcher and downing the last of its contents in one fell swoop. He let out a grand belch that caused his comrades to wince as the traces of foam fizzled on his mustache. "Round two?"

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Vayne cursed the Institute of War for putting on such an event.

In celebration of the winter season, the Institute had implemented a special sort of competition in which champions could be summoned alone or in a pair to face off against another solo or duo on the Howling Abyss. She didn't have any internal qualms about participating in the event itself, but today, her summoner had chosen to put her in her Heartseeker attire in the middle of the Freljord's neverending winter. As soon as she'd materialized on the north side fountain, her arms immediately folded themselves across her torso as she fought the urge to shiver.

And as if things couldn't get any worse, she had been summoned alongside none other than Draven. Not that she questioned his combat abilities since he'd proven himself many times over to be quite strong, but as of late, his sheer presence had proved enough to put her in a bad mood.

Vayne spoke no words to him when he appeared beside her, choosing to immediately barter with the shopkeeper instead of discussing strategy. She preoccupied herself with strapping her potions to her holster as her teeth chattered with the cold, waiting for the hermit to finally procure her Doran's blade.

But despite her resolve to ignore Draven for the most part, she couldn't help but notice that he hadn't moved within the precious time they had to shop, choosing to blatantly stare at her instead of buying his items.

" _What_?" she snapped, already irritated enough at the cold. This hadn't seemed to faze him much though, as Draven only blinked in response. Vayne was seriously about to shoot him with an arrow to make sure he was mentally there when he finally spoke.

"You should wear your hair that way more often," her fellow marksman commented, the uncharacteristic sincerity in his voice causing her stomach to do a flip. "It looks nice."

It took a few seconds for the Night Hunter to actually process what he'd said, one gloved hand unconsciously moving to finger her dark tresses as she mentally stumbled for words. Thankfully, the heavy thud of the sword interrupted the moment, her no-nonsense composure mostly returning.

"Hurry up and buy the rest of your items," Vayne said curtly, avoiding eye contact as she adjusted the red frames to rest across the bridge of her nose. She readied her crossbow with a snap before moving ahead without him, praying he hadn't spotted the pop of color on her cheeks. "We need bush control before the cougar woman traps them."

"On it," he muttered, affirming that he was back in his right state of mind.

Vayne couldn't help but notice that it suddenly felt a little less cold.

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Vayne would never ever, under any circumstances, admit to actively seeking out Draven unless she absolutely had to. The current situation in the wake of their most recent match was one of these rare exceptions, which was why she was currently storming towards forbidden territory in her heeled boots.

She certainly wasn't seeking him out just to look at him, either. No siree. Not Shauna Vayne.

She spotted her prey quickly and made a beeline for him, catching the mildly worried look on the other champion's face in the mirror as he caught sight of her.

The man had been shaving, or at least attempting to. He craned his neck back and started eyeing her from the mirror and giving her a bit of his would-be debonair grin that made her want to squirm. He was only wearing a towel at the moment, the white terrycloth drooping low on his hips as it collected the water from his post-match shower. His hair was combed back to the nape of his neck and showing its full length while unstyled and free from its usual ponytail. A few strands that had dried faster than the rest broke free from the pack and fell over his shoulder, flirting with his collarbones and catching her attention for a moment before she remembered her purpose. Draven shifted slightly under her fiery gaze and had to catch his towel as it made a desperate lunge towards indecency.

"Hey, Vayne," he said as he tried to tie his towel with one hand. "You, uh, do know that this is the  _men's_  locker room, right?" he pointed out despite the fact that he was the only room's occupant at the moment – all the other male champions had long since left while he underwent the tedious process of grooming himself.

Vayne's brows furrowed in frustration. The amount of nonchalance in those words had to be illegal coming from an extremely built man with legs to next Tuesday who was fresh from a shower. Granted the shaving cream on his neck and face detracted from the image a bit, but once he got the towel tied off and tilted his head back to begin carefully shaving his neck it was extremely difficult not to watch the razor as it revealed inch after agonizing inch of tanned skin.

"What the  _hell_  was that earlier?" she demanded with fury, completely ignoring his question and causing him to jump and almost drop his razor.

"So you're still mad," Draven put the small blade down and turned to face her properly. "But I can explain–"

"I deserved that fifth kill on Jarvan after taking down the remainder of their team," she seethed, cutting him off mid-sentence. This is why she disliked being sent to command the troops to the north instead of south where she was usually designated. There was too much competition in score with two marksmen on the field. "He was already on the verge of collapse, I would have been able to take him down easily after striking down the fox."

" _No_ , you wouldn't have," Draven said, voice getting a tad defensive in an attempt to actually prove his point. He made sure to follow up before she had the chance to angrily retort, "You were pretty injured yourself and everyone else was too away far to help you."

"And even though you knew Jarvan was waiting in the wings, one knock-up from him and a charm to the face and you would have been respawning back in the fountain. You should be thankful that I actually knocked him away in time and finished him off while you took down Ahri," he finished, looking as if it offended him to have her question what he'd done.

Vayne pursed her lips, rendered speechless after hearing his logic. It surprised her how much consideration towards her safety the Noxian executioner had put in his action plan. Though endeavors conducted on the Fields of Justice were a collaborative effort, she tended to have a 'watch your own back' type of attitude when summoned, and would have expected the same of him.

But at the same time, her sense of pride wouldn't allow her to back down, even if he did have a valid point.

"You don't know that," she scoffed, acting as though her demeanor hadn't wavered after hearing his words. This was proving to be quite difficult however, as the towel began to make its descent again causing Draven to pull it back up. The motion however, provided her with a different view entirely as the terrycloth parted like a fine evening gown to expose a fair amount of his upper thigh before he cursed and made a move to fix it.

Now that her fit of rage had partly subsided, she realized that the lines on his chest were fully exposed now and begging to be followed again. She was vaguely aware of Draven attempting to further argue with her, though she was a bit too preoccupied to listen since everything about him seemed to draw her gaze downwards. Even the water seeping out of his hair was proving to be dangerous, trailing down the crevices in his muscles and disappearing into the towel around his hips.

_Stop._

"Hey, Vayne. You alright?" Draven asked suddenly, snapping his fingers to try and get her attention. Again, the champion shifted his weight from one leg to the other, towel shifting with him. The knot, which he had tied with one hand, was just barely teasing with coming undone.

Vayne wished it an agonizing death tangled in the drum of a washing machine.

–And promptly realized she needed to get out of there.

"Don't get in my way next time," she stammered in what she deemed as a pissed enough tone before promptly storming her way out of the locker room, leaving Draven to question what in the hell was it that had her panties all in a knot lately.

No sooner had the door swung shut behind her did the towel finally decide to give in to her demands.

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The next time Vayne and Draven met was once again on Summoner's Rift. They were thankfully on opposing teams this time, both to the south where they belonged. And though Draven was currently donning his gladiator costume with markings in a different pattern across his exposed arms and chest, Vayne had been doing well in keeping her attention focused on the match and was currently even in score with the opposing marksman.

But because of the natural advantage in strength Draven had early on, she had to be careful while picking off the enemy soldiers. Thresh had been doing a good job so far exerting pressure in the lane, constantly serving as a threat in the shrubs to keeping Draven on his toes whenever he tried to retrieve an axe. This allowed Vayne to keep up with him so far as income was concerned, but Janna of Zaun had been doing her part to assist her partner as well. She seemed to always be able to shield Draven when a silver-tipped arrow was sent his way, and the seemingly endless tornadoes she summoned forced Vayne tumble away and miss and sacrifice the last hit on an enemy grunt lest she wanted an axe embedded in her side.

All in all, she and Draven were relatively even with their respective allies having yet to make an appearance from the jungle and forces in the dead center of the lane. Neither of them had gone back to buy actual damage items either, determined to stick it out until the other performed their recall spell first.

Vayne bit her lip, wishing the stubborn man would hurry up and retreat back to base already. They were both severely lacking in damage at this point in the game, and with the amount of gold in her pockets, she had enough to buy her cutlass as well as upgrade her boots to better dodge tornadoes. Thresh sent another chained scythe flying through the lane in an attempt to make the executioner back off, but Draven artfully sidestepped it while still managing to catch an axe, rendering the Chain Warden idle for the next few seconds. And if that wasn't enough, the shield from the Storm's Fury mitigated the damage from the arrow she sent afterwards.

This was just getting silly. Neither of them had a clear advantage, but at this rate, she was going to have nothing but her Doran's Blade before Udyr finally decided to show up.

Another tornado was sent hurling in her direction causing her and Thresh to fall a few meters back, though it took its entire duration for her to realize that it had more purpose than to simply zone the two of them away. The opening had given Draven the chance to slam both his axes into the ground and sending them to the north steady as a professional. She would have labeled the act as wishful thinking had she not seen the explosion that followed, poor Rumble's fur scorched black and sailing through the air for the entire rift to see.

Draven let out an accomplished laugh as his axes returned, and Vayne watched the clench of muscle as he flexed his grip on the handles, tossing them ceremoniously in the air as a sign of victory as he collected the bounty for his kill. The action rendered her immobile for a moment as she stopped to watch in a moment of weakness, a dull ache forming between her hip bones as her eyes greedily took in the sight of his fully exposed chest and arms glistening with sweat and dirt, muscles and movements clearly defined with every flick of his wrist.

Vayne barely had the time to grab onto the lantern Thresh sent her way before an axe was sent her way. But despite her retreat, she failed to evade the axe itself, which had left a deep gash on her stomach.

"Damn it," she cursed as she pressed her hands to the bloody mess on her abdomen, the stinging pain bringing her back to her senses. Safely under their tower now, Vayne decided to give in and cast her recall spell in order to heal herself at the fountain.

"You seem distracted," the Chain Warden bellowed as he began to recall alongside her, green eyes glowing in question. "This is unlike you."

"I'm fine," Vayne replied sternly, wound pulsing in pain. "It won't happen again."

Thresh seemed satisfied enough with her answer, but she couldn't help but mentally berate herself when their opposing lane retreated to their tower to safely recall as well. Draven in particular seemed quite pleased with their victory in the battle of willpower, arms raised high as bright blue rings began to materialize beneath his feet. She scowled in his direction as light particles began to obscure him, almost causing her to miss the small glance he gave her before she was sent back to her fountain – A sly, knowing grin that seemed to color his features for just a moment.

It was almost like he–

No…

_No…_

She knew that grin. It was the self-assured grin of the enemy that thought he had given her the slip right before she condemned them to the nearest wall and promptly ended them. It was confident, full of itself, and utterly shit-eating. It was the cocksure grin of a smarmy son of a bitch that knew quite well that he had a body capable of haunting daydreams and was using it to his advantage.

Instead of being insulted, Vayne readied her weapon with new resolve as the gash on her abdomen stitched itself closed.

This meant  _war_.


	2. The Totally-On-Purpose Seduction of Draven

Contrary to what most people thought, Draven was a decently smart man.

No, really.

It was that decent amount of smarts that had led the veteran champion to his current line of adventures in popularity with the women of the league. He knew very well that he was a well built, attractive man with a wicked sense of style.

But let's face it – who  _didn't_  know that by now?

The cool Draven mustache was a plus as well. So he'd decided to take a page, or a chapter, ah hell, maybe just nab the whole thing out of pretty boy Jayce's book (who had had explained the tactics to him during a night of drinking and whining about how a certain pink-haired police officer was immune to his charms), and use all that to his advantage. It was actually pretty fun too, now that he had the hang of it.

The best part though, was that it was working.

"Afternoon, Sheriff," he greeted, giving the brunette a playful salute that subtly accentuated his biceps as he passed her in the hallway. The woman's eyes widened and she flushed a noticeable shade of red before she could manage to hide her expression under the brim of her purple hat, wrenching her gaze away and continuing her stride.

Grin unchanging, he turned towards his brother who was being summoned alongside him for the next match who met with an unamused expression.

"Really?" Darius asked accusingly. "You're being cruel to those poor women."

"Aw come on, brother, how's a smile cruel?" the smile fell from Draven's face as he spoke, crossing his arms like a pouting child.

"Half the women in the league want you on any available surface and the other half haven't had the misfortune of  _running into you yet_ ," the Hand of Noxus said flatly. Realizing his words, he briefly looked around for a pistol bearing redhead of the same name in case the universe had decided to be ironic and add another poor soul to his brother's harem. Thankfully, it hadn't.

"But who could blame them for wanting a piece of Draven?" Draven remarked with a self-assured grin. As if to exemplify his point, the younger of the two retrieved the axes on his back, tossing and twirling them around with well practiced skill. His expression only brightened when he noticed the Will of Blades briefly eyeing him as she made her way past them as well, sending her a wink and adding a bit more flair in his actions. "Doesn't get better than this."

"So you  _are_  doing this on purpose then," Darius asked pointedly, far used to his brother's antics and attitude to be surprised at this point. No immediate retort was made however, Draven's footsteps halting and his axes whirling to a slow stop. Interest piqued, the older of the two decided to follow Draven's line of sight to find out what was suddenly so distracting.

The Night Hunter had just appeared through the doors of the room containing the summoning platform donning her Dragonslayer armor. Her pale skin was marred with dirt and scratches from her prior match, but despite the lack of protection it gave, Draven couldn't find it in himself to complain about her outfit choice. The skimpy armor looked good on her, showing off the parts that were usually obscured by her normal outfits (save the red one he also liked quite a bit). The blue decorative shards only barely bit into her toned abdomen, showing just how fit she was. And the curves of her thighs still managed to remain pretty sexy despite the bulkiness of her greaves, the small stretch fishnet underneath just barely visible like a small tease.

But the outfit in itself was hardly anything new – he'd seen her sporting it many times before. What had succeeded in capturing Draven's attention was the sight of Vayne removing her helmet after a minor struggle. With that out of the way, she tucked it safely under one arm before pulling down her face mask and taking a deep, relieved breath. Her dark locks settled in a ponytail behind her that was messy from combat, while a few loosened strands fell across her forehead and plastered themselves to the sweat that had collected under her helm over the distinct line of dirt and ash that had settled on the edge of the protective cusp of the helm. The woman attempted to wipe off some of the blood and grime on her stomach, but only succeeded in leaving thick streaks in the wake of her fingers before giving up and wiping her gloves on the dirty sash around her waist. It gave her an utterly feral look, and Draven couldn't help but quietly wonder if Vayne had always been this hot.

"You did well today," she told Sona with a small smile, who Draven had only noticed to be traveling behind her now. The mute maven replied by playing a happy melody on her arcade console style etwahl. It was the musician who spotted him first, surveying him curiously before pushing some colorful buttons and pointing him out to her marksman. It was only when the Night Hunter regarded him with her tired, kohl-rimmed eyes and smoldering gaze did Draven realize that he had been staring.

Crap.

"Well hey there, ladies," he managed to utter normally despite suddenly being put on the back foot. The huntress and the musician proceeded to eye him with suspicion.

"Draven," Vayne replied curtly for the both of them, expecting the exchange to be brief.

"I take it you won your match," he commented, giving them the best debonair grin he could, his brother quietly observing the situation.

"We did," Vayne said in typical Vayne fashion – abrupt, to the point, and totally unaffected by his attractiveness, which was a shame.

"Cool," Draven concluded without thinking, and he swore he heard Darius snort in the background. Even the blue-haired woman by her side cocked her head as if to question his intentions. He mentally slapped himself in the face, realizing just how  _un-_ cool he had sounded just then.

But all was not lost. There was still time to fix this. He was Draven, after all, which meant that he was totally irresistible to everyone and everything no matter what.

"I'm participating in the next match. You should definitely come watch," he mentioned with his foolproof Draven smile, flash of teeth bright beneath his awesome mustache. His expression remained hopeful while completely oblivious to the eye roll Darius performed beside him.

"I have more important matters to attend to," Vayne answered, appearing too bored for the conversation to continue. She abruptly brushed past without wishing him so much as a "good luck," tattered cape trailing behind her leaving Draven speechless and ultimately rejected. Her fellow Demacian at least left him more of a response – the blue-haired woman gave him a crooked sort of smirk before playing a mocking tune on her instrument that sounded very much like a "Game Over," indicating he'd struck out before sauntering away as well.

It took a moment for Draven to recover from the sense rejection he'd been unfamiliar with lately, and Darius could only chuckle to himself as his brother sulked beside him to the summoning platform. Any semblance of Draven's cheery mood from before was completely gone, replaced by that of a a wet puppy.

"Perhaps I shouldn't be too concerned with motives all," Darius said with a teasing grin.

"Shut up," Draven muttered in defeat before the two of them were engulfed by a beam of light.

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Draven made a mental note to never play cards with Talon ever again.

The terms had been simple enough – the loser had to do a small favor for the winner, no big deal. What Draven didn't know, however, was that the term "favor" in Talon's terms actually meant a transfer of one of the menial errands Katarina forced upon him. And judging by the nature of his task, he assumed that the errands the Sinister Blade made him do weren't very conventional.

He raised the small envelope towards the light in an attempt to inspect its contents, but was unable to see anything no matter what angle he tried using. Though the presentation was quite simple, it seemed that the red-haired assassin had taken quite some time in scrawling the name  _Garen Crownguard_  in seductive cursive lettering.

Though he was curious to what was inside, he couldn't help but grumble at the fact that he had to play delivery boy for the day. He'd never had any reason to venture into the wing that housed Demacia's champions, let alone Garen Crownguard's room. Wherever the hell it was anyway.

The insignia on the entryway had hinted that he was in the right place, but the vast number of doors inside left him hopelessly at a loss. After all, he would never seek out any of the Demacian champions on his own whim, so he had no clue where to start when it came to tracking one down. He paused, wondering if he should just slip the letter under one of them and hope it eventually made its way to its recipient. Talon had warned him however that Katarina would have his head if it wasn't delivered in a timely fashion. Not that Draven particularly cared about the fate of the Blade's Shadow, but Talon had also warned him that if the aforementioned scenario were to happen, he would make sure to quietly decapitate Draven before surrendering himself to the fuming redhead he was sworn to serve.

Frowning, the Glorious Executioner pondered if the idea of knocking on each and every door until he found the eldest Crownguard would work in his favor. Then again, there was no guarantee that Crownguard would be in the premises either. Well if anything, he guessed that if he was able to find at least one Demacian resident of the League that they'd probably help him out since they had that whole "noble and just" thing going on.

Draven managed to spot a door that was open by a smidgen, light pouring out of the small crack – probably an accident, but he'd take what he could get. Making his way over, he peered one eye through the tiny opening to figure out whose room it was, and perhaps get them to help him out if they were still in.

He felt his breath hitch in this throat –  _oh, they were in, alright –_ single eye widening at the sight that greeted him.

The object that had captured his attention was tight and heart-shaped and undeniably female, cupped appreciatively in the tight, form fitting bodysuit that ran down to shape long, toned thighs and slender calves. Its owner seemed to be in the process of getting ready, hair free of its usual bands and falling over one of her shoulders as to not obstruct her view. She bent further forwards as she readied the holsters of her boots, seemingly unaware that the position was giving him an even better view of her behind.

His fingers unconsciously wriggled as they formed a tight fist, hand wanting so badly to splay itself like a brandished weapon on the pert, leather-clad ass in front of him. But before he could appreciate it further, he found himself falling onto his own bottom as an arrow embedded itself in the doorframe right next to where his eye had been, small splinters threatening to permanently blind him flying in wake of the impact.

Draven barely had time to pick himself up onto his feet before an indignant looking Vayne promptly threw open the door with her crossbow on her arm, ready to kill. She glared at him behind what looked to be a pair of wire-framed glasses which oddly enough made her look pretty hot despite the whole pissed thing, especially with her hair down – which he quickly decided he liked better than her Heartseeker updo even. And with the new view of her front side, he was now free to realize that her bodysuit wasn't completely zipped up, the tag resting just above the dip of her navel. The exposed delta of milky white skin immediately drew the attention of his eyes, now fixated on the ridges of her collarbones and the modest curve of her breasts under the leather. He knew he'd been right in his assumption that she didn't wear a bra underneath her usual outfit all these years–

–The sound of the string of her crossbow tightening told him that he couldn't afford to think about that right now.

" _Explain yourself_ ," she hissed, arrow ready to fire straight towards his face. He gulped, thankful that she'd given him the grace of a warning shot instead of condemning him to the wall and immediately ending him, but he couldn't remember anything in Jayce's book that would help him right now. Actually, he couldn't think of anything that could help him if he continued failing to form coherent words.

"Hey, Vayne!" he greeted her, tone trailing abnormally high compared to his normal voice accompanied a nervous smile. "I…Ah…Uhh –" he struggled, beginning to sweat under the pressure of her dominating presence. The Night Hunter remained unaffected by his sorry attempt, lips thinning in annoyance as her patience grew thin. He heard a small growl coming from her end signaling that his time was just about up.

He somehow managed to raise Katarina's letter like a white flag, though it didn't cause Vayne to disarm right away. "I need to deliver this for Kat," he told her, holding it closer so she could read the printed name herself. She seemed to be buying his explanation so far, lowering her weapon completely and taking the envelope from him.

"I just wasn't sure which one was big bro Crownguard's room so I decided to check the one that was open," he shrugged, watching her inspect the letter like he had done prior. He took the opportunity to sneak a quick glance at her chest again, but found his eyes being drawn upwards to her face. The glasses complemented her inquisitive look greatly, resting along the delicate bridge of her nose and making her look like some sort of sexy librarian as she furrowed her brow and proceeded to examine the exterior carefully.

"No wonder I've spotted Talon around these parts lately," she mused, moving the envelope from one hand to the other to weigh its contents and seeming to buy his excuse. "I wasn't aware the two of you were Katarina's errand boys, but it all makes sense now."

"Yeah–" he nodded, adopting a more relaxed stance before realizing that he had no idea what she was saying. "Wait, what do you mean by that?"

"You  _are_  aware of the relationship between Katarina du Couteau and Garen Crownguard, aren't you?" Vayne asked as with a raised brow as if he were some sort of dolt.

"Well yeah, it's not exactly news," he replied, expecting her to give him more credit than that. Not all of the champions of the League knew about Garen and Katarina's romantic relationship, but the ones who were privy were generally close to one of them and were told to keep privy about the situation. "But what does that have to do with...Oh. " He finally realized while Vayne shook her head at just how slow he had been in registering everything.

"Obviously if the two of them were to go public with their relationship, even on Institute grounds, it would put them and everyone closely associated with them at risk," she told him with a patronizing tone, placing gloved hand on her hip as she continued. "With Garen coming from a noble bloodline of devoted soldiers and standing at as the pride of the Demacian military, he would likely be stripped of his titles and jeopardize the positions of the rest of his family. As for Katarina, with General du Couteau missing, she and her sister could be easily subject to accusations of conspiracy and become imprisoned or worse if the Noxian military were to find out. Hence why they're communicating in such an outdated fashion and having intermediaries deliver the messages for them."

"Huh, I see." He knew that if the details of their relationship were exposed, both Garen and Katarina would be in a tough spot, though he hadn't actually taken the time to weigh the consequences if either military faction caught wind. He suddenly felt for Kat a bit. She always had a tough face on when he was around, but he couldn't even imagine the toll such a relationship had on her. It made him wonder if she'd just grown accustomed to hiding it, since she never was the type of person to rely on others anyway.

"So what do you reckon's in it?" Draven asked, wondering what Vayne's two cents were on the matter and also very aware of how close she currently was as she traced the corners of the envelope with slim, feminine fingers before handing it back to him.

"It's hard to say. A sincere letter of affection, a designated time and place to meet in secret," she said with a small shrug of dismissal. Despite her knowledge on the subject, it seemed as though she wasn't particularly interested in the matter in general. "The message could even be coded, it's hard to tell. But it's not our business to begin with. It's intimate information meant for the two of them."

"I guess you're right," he trailed off, having to agree despite the fact that it was one of his friend's love life at stake. However, the mention bloodline left him with a different sort of curiosity concerning the woman in front of him.

"Say," he began hesitantly, hoping his next words wouldn't sound intrusive. "You come from a family of Demacian nobles too, right?" She gave him a curt nod.

"So would it matter if you were seeing someone from a different city-state or whatever?" Draven asked her, catching the small hint of surprise in her eyes. "Like, could you ever see yourself in Kat's shoes?"

The Night Hunter paused, pondering the question.

"Seeing as I am the last member of the House of Vayne, it's not like my I have no family that would have any say in my choice of relationships," she told him after some thought, making him feel like a bit of an idiot for forgetting that rather important detail concerning her past. But it seemed she hadn't taken any offense to it as the rest of her speech remained fluid, "The other members of the nobility and the High Council may have problems with it, but they don't faze me enough to affect my decisions. I am Demacian born and of noble blood, but I do not affiliate myself with their political games. The Grand Council does not have much leverage on me either as I am one of their most successful champions."

"Oh," Draven blinked, a bit taken aback by her openness concerning the matter. Unlike the rest of the Demacians gracing the Fields of Justice, Vayne had always kind of struck him as the odd one of the bunch. Despite the fact that she was the sole remaining member of her family, she was seemingly free of the binds that the rest of the champions from her city-state were subject to like the Crownguards or House Laurent and Fiora.

"So you'd be okay with dating a Noxian then?" he inquired in sheer curiosity, wondering if she'd ever thought about seeing someone from her enemy city-state.

"I wouldn't have any objections if I were to find myself in a relationship with one," she replied simply, plucking the arrow she'd embedded in the doorway and giving it a playful spin between her fingers. He wasn't quite sure why, but something inside him felt quite pleased with her answer.

"What about an Ionian?" he continued for good measure, not wanting to make it seem exclusive to his people.

"Same goes for them," Vayne said coolly, making him wonder about what to throw at her next.

"A beast then, like Rengar? Or maybe someone who's not human anymore like Kass–" he went on owlishly, only to find the silver tip of the arrow dangerously close to the tip of his nose.

"Don't you have to deliver that?" Vayne asked him as another sort of warning before his inquiries got out of hand.

"Oh yeah!" he exclaimed, remembering the envelope in his hand that had gotten him into this situation in the first place. "So, ah, which one is Crownguards?" he asked, resilient to the eyeroll she sent in his direction (after all, the glasses did wonders to make that gesture seem attractive too).

Vayne used the arrow in her hand to gesture to the right, where the hallway continued before making a bend, "Round the corner and it's the first door on the right," she told him, watching him murmur her exact words to himself so that he wouldn't forget. "If he's not in, I suppose you could just slip it under the door for him to receive later."

"–On the right. Okay, got it." he said affirmatively, adding a nod for good measure. "Thanks, Vayne. I'll see you later?" He added with a promising note, which he almost immediately regretted after seeing the bewildered look on her face. After all, it wasn't like the two of them were on friendly terms most of the time, especially with their roles as marksmen on the Rift.

"So long as it doesn't involve you in my room again, I suppose," she said with a stern frown as a bit of a warning. Draven was satisfied with it though, deeming it as the closest thing to a joke she was able muster.

He flashed her his trademark grin as she disappeared behind the door with a sigh, "Wouldn't dream of it!"

_Whoops, already did._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

This was getting annoying.

His match for today had put him on the southern end of Summoner's Rift alongside Nami, who he generally worked well with. Unfortunately, they were against the Demacian duo of Vayne and Sona, who were able to sustain just as well – if not better – than they were able to. Vayne's footwork was also annoyingly excellent today, evading each and every bubble sent her way and carefully picking off their soldiers without getting too close, as Draven had the upper-hand when it came to strength sans any big purchases early in the match.

Not to mention the element associated with each of Nami's spells was a bit distracting considering the visual effect they had on Vayne and the exposure of her blasted Heartseeker outfit. The Tidecaller's Blessing was quickly becoming more of a curse. Each empowered strike proved to do a good number of damage on the Night Hunter, but they also made her blood marred, porcelain skin glisten in that feral sort of way again, which was becoming quite hard to  _not_ pay attention to.

Draven pushed his wet mop of hair – courtesy of his aquatic support – out of the way and tried his best to focus on his minion score despite the fact that Vayne looked so good right now it was almost criminal. The lane itself however, was going nowhere fast since both parties were being relatively careful when engaging. Every time either of the carries would do a reasonable chunk of damage to either opponent in the lane, they would heal up in a matter of minutes. Nami seemed to be feeling the pressure of boredom as well, cursing as Sona used her trinket on the very bush the member his support had been in, forcing her out of hiding while at the same time taking the hit of an empowered chord. With their enemy lane in close proximity, she took the liberty of sending another stream towards the maven before splashing Draven square in the face  _again_.

At this point, Draven's clothes were practically sopping wet, which wasn't exactly comfortable. The water had left his vision just in time to see it bounce onto Vayne and her pleasant updo. Her hair remained just as aesthetically pleasing when wet, and he couldn't help but notice the way tossed her head to the side so her dampened fringe wouldn't get in the way. It wasn't until after an arrow had embedded itself in his arm that he realized his habit of staring left him within range of her, and he was a bit late on tossing his axes to knock her away, a post-tumble arrow hitting directly in the chest.

"Fuck," he cursed, quickly removing both before receiving a face full of Ebb and Flow for the umpteenth time in lane. Vayne was still in range of it as well, the stream of water hitting her below the collarbone. It was hard  _not_  to watch the excess stream deliciously down the crevice between her breasts and down the flat expanse of her stomach, trailing down her hip bones and disappearing beneath the hem of her little red skirt–

Another silver-tipped arrow hit the flesh of his shoulder, causing him to grunt in pain.

"Can you stop doing that?!" he wailed desperately to his support as he stepped back to pluck out the arrows, not wanting to admit that his wandering eyes were the reason for his sudden clumsiness. The fishtailed woman sent him a death glare, clearly offended by his outburst.

"Stop what? Stop  _healing_  you? Stop giving your axes some extra juice?" Nami fumed, waving her staff indignantly behind him. "You'd better be careful about what you say to me, Draven, or else–"

The Tidecaller never got to finish her thought as Sona seized the opportunity and flashed in front of the pair, giving them a malicious smile before plucking the strings of her etwahl to prompt her Crescendo.

"Shit!" Draven called out, completely vulnerable and unable to stop himself from dancing like a moron. He heard Nami scream bloody murder as she was promptly condemned against the rocky wall and taking a flurry of arrows until her fishlike form lay limp on the dirt. Fortunately enough, she had managed to panic summon a tidal wave before her fishy form littered with arrows flopped to the ground, knocking their opponents into the air and keeping Draven alive, despite the exhaust spell Sona had cast on him as soon as he'd been able to move.

Vayne on the other hand was far from finished, form vanishing with the intent of hunting him down. Draven grit his teeth, throwing his axes in the direction Sona's Song of Celerity gave away to knock the Night Hunter back as a trusted ally made his way quietly down the river in an attempt to turn the tides.

With no form of escape left, Sona was left helpless with a knife against her throat as Talon revealed himself behind her, striking her and slowing her movements with a rake of his blades. Her signature blue dress tore around her, blood spilling from her wounds and staining the ground in a trail as she tried to retreat. Draven was quick to catch up with his Blood Rush however, hurling an axe straight into her back. The maven was unable to emit the defeated wail Nami had, folding like a wilted flower to the ground. This time it was Vayne's turn to curse as she tumbled away towards the direction of her tower in order to recall, not willing to stick around with the blatant disadvantage she had against the two of them.

"Thanks," Draven said, breathing a sigh of relief as he spun the blood off his axes and activated his recall alongside the assassin. "I thought I was done for back there."

Talon crossed his arms and gave him a pointed look as the light particles beneath their feet began to glow and concentrate, "Don't expect me to come save you next time you get distracted like that."

"What are you talking about?" Draven exclaimed, confidence faltering at the fact that he'd been caught so easily. Surely the focus of his attention hadn't been that obvious.

Though he supposed it  _was_  his fault for checking Vayne out in the first place.

Damn that outfit of hers.

The Blade's Shadow sent him a knowing smirk before they teleported back to the fountain, "Let's finish this quickly."

.

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An hour previously, Draven would not have counted 'doing a crossword puzzle' and 'one piece swimsuits' on a list of extremely sexy things. In fact they would have been on his list of extremely  _un-sexy_ things, along with losing, tattooed old women, and  _Gragas_. But somehow the activity coupled with the outfit had managed to worm their way onto a list of things that made the executioner antsy in his swim trunks, and managed to get pretty close to the top in the process.

It was, of course, all Vayne's fault.

She was currently engrossed with her magazine, situated away from the crowd under a large umbrella that fit with the theme of the event. The Institute had conjured a beach of sorts in order to promote of the summer themed outfits some of the other champions were now able to don on the Fields of Justice. Though not all champions were privy to their own beachwear, they were all at least able to participate in the activities that celebrated the release.

Though he had to wonder how Vayne could find a crossword puzzle of all things enjoyable. The least she could do was jump in the water and recreate the effects of their last match, even though the swimsuit left much to be desired. But that wasn't even the worst part. That part Draven could almost ignore, considering the style of her attire.

What had captured his attention and lured him away from the festivities was when she had produced a pen.

Vayne had procured it from her tote bag, uncrossing and re-crossing her long legs on the beach towel she was sitting on before licking a thumb and flicking through the magazine to the very back pages. She then folded the pages back, uncapped the pen, set the magazine on her heavenly thighs, and proceeded to do the crossword. When the writing utensil wasn't touching the pages, the capped end prodded at her soft bottom lip as she pondered the answers to the puzzle.

Draven felt his breath hitch in his throat once again, unable to tear his gaze from the woman in front of him. Giving her an attentive once-over, he decided that the modest article of clothing did have a certain sort of allure – or at least did a good job of flattering her already flawless figure. The navy blue of the one piece was a stark contrast to the porcelain tone of her skin, fixating his attention on her slender, toned legs.

"You're at the beach and you're doing a crossword puzzle?" Draven mentioned in an attempt to be casual, peering under the umbrella's colorful trim. It was still a bit uncharacteristic of the two of them to associate with each other, but he at least hoped that since the whole letter ordeal that there was a chance she wouldn't shoo him away immediately.

She shot him a brief, annoyed glance behind her framed glasses – which he now assumed were her more casual form of eye wear – but made no immediate threat on his life, which was a good start.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion on my hobbies," she breezed indifferently thought as she attempted to focus on the magazine in her lap. She twirled her pen in thought, lips forming a slight frown as she contemplated one of the hints which seemed to be on the tip of her tongue. Draven peered over her shoulder with interest, settling into a crouch so he could better see the print.

"Eleisa," he told her, earning a vaguely surprised glance in his direction, counting the number of boxes with the tip of her pen to make sure it would fit. "You know, the little girl."

"…That's correct," the Night Hunter quietly mused, remembering the answer herself after being prompted and scribbling down the answer. "Thank you."

"No problem," he said smugly with a flash of his trademark, confident grin. She seemed unaffected by it however, moving on to the next hint and filling in the empty boxes in silence.

"So why are you over here all by yourself?" he questioned her, settling into a cross-legged seat on the sand next to her beach towel. She raised a brow as if to question his intentions, which went unnoticed by the axe-wielder, "Shouldn't you be enjoying the weather while it lasts? Not every day The Institute does something like this. You should come join everyone else."

"I don't particularly like the sun," she told him, gesturing at the large umbrella with her pen as if it hadn't been enough of a hint. Draven fought the urge to remark, " _Is that why Leona always gives you so much trouble in lane? Hah!_ " but decided against it, valuing his life more than a chance to poke fun at the stoic Night Hunter.

"Or rather, I  _can't_  enjoy it," She corrected herself as if she'd foreseen the snide comment coming. "My skin is sensitive to it, I burn relatively easily," she said, curling her toes so they were safely in the shadow of the umbrella.

"But that's what sunscreen is for," he replied, glancing at her tote for signs of a bottle and spying the words  _SPF 100_  peering out from one of the corners. The obscenely high number making him feel a bit sorry for her, though with the natural fairness of her skin, he supposed it was to be expected.

"It doesn't help much," she dismissed, shifting her position so she lay on her stomach, elbows propped and magazine flat on the towel so she could better write. "Even with regular reapplication, I'm unable to go in the sun very long without burning," the woman continued, though Draven was finding it rather hard to pay attention to what she was saying with the angle she was giving him.

Her long ponytail was swept over her shoulder, giving him a flawless view of her backside. The thin material of the swimsuit was even more form-fitting than the spandex had been and definitely exposed more skin despite its ordinary nature. He traced the line of her back with its eyes, wondering if she would shudder if he ran his fingers delicately down its trail. He followed the line hungrily down to the curve of her spine, imagining the pair of feminine dimples hiding beneath the swimsuit before moving on to once again appreciate her perfectly rounded ass, peeking shyly out from under the navy delta of material that bit into it as if to say hello.

Draven grit his teeth, fingers unconsciously fisting themselves in the sand. This wasn't good.

"Draven!" he heard abruptly, snapping him out of his daze. He turned to see Katarina, one arm waving at him to get his attention, the other carrying far more than her share of fruit, hinting that they'd played one of the games without him. "You wanted watermelon, right? Lee was able to break it on his first try, hurry up before it's all gone."

"Coming!" he called to the redhead, scrambling to his feet before something  _else_  decided to come up to say hi. "Want me to grab you some?" he asked Vayne, earning him a curious glance behind her wire-framed glasses at his sudden display of consideration.

"I'm fine, thank you. Not that hungry," she replied with a hint of politeness, which caught him off guard.

"…But enjoy yourself," she added a bit awkwardly, gaze fixated on the crossword puzzle to avoid eye contact. She wasn't very well versed in the friendly goodbye, he realized, which was kind of cute.

"Yeah," he smiled broadly, victim to her strange sort of charm. "You too," he said, shoving his hands into the pocket of his trunks and sauntering away like there was a blood diamond in his crotch.


	3. To come full circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, you guys can have your porn now.

There was only so much a woman could take before breaking down, grabbing the object of her desires by the ear, and forcefully dragging him off to have her way with him. Vayne in particular had reached that limit when she'd decided to spectate the League's last scheduled match of the evening in which Draven just so happened to be participating.

She hated to admit it, but the Glorious Executioner had truly lived up to his title during his performance, each precise twist of his arm to deal a decisive blow had left her squirming almost painfully in her seat with each frenzied cry before charging after his next target, normal attire splattered a cruel red. By the time the match had ended and his perfect score was displayed for everyone to see, Vayne had decided that enough was enough.

It was with a scowl and a coat of freshly-applied lipstick that the Night Hunter stormed into forbidden territory once more and made a beeline for a freshly showered and (unfortunately) fully clothed Draven. He barely had time to raise an axe in defense before she struck.

"Vayne, I've told you already, this is the men's–"

He was abruptly cut off by her completely shoving him into the metal lockers behind him and digging her forearm into his jugular, thanking the heels of her boots for giving her enough leverage to do so.

"But what did I even  _do_ this time?!" he managed to wail through the painful pressure against his windpipe, really having no clue as to what he'd done to offend her.

" _You_ ," she seethed with irritation, the axe-wielder squirming as he struggled for air. "Are the biggest  _fucking_  cunt tease I have ever had the displeasure of meeting."

"Whoa, wait, wha–" Draven managed to let out before she retracted her arm, finally giving him some room to breathe. His hands went to the soreness of his throat as the words processed in his head. " _What_?"

"You heard me," the Night Hunter growled, tone ablaze with clearly misplaced anger and a hint of something else that he couldn't quite pinpoint. "And the part where you made me want you like some hormonal teenage girl just for  _kicks_  is just about the lowest thing I can think of."

Draven briefly wondered if he needed to get his hearing checked or if maybe the rock the little prehistoric bugger chucked at him earlier had done some actual brain damage.

"And even if you do have just about everything going for you, I still hate your mustache," she finished, continuing to glower at his bemused expression.

"Hey now," he somehow mustered despite the severe verbal lashing he'd just endured. "You're not much better, miss I'm-just-gonna-wear-skin-tight-leather-all-day-and-oh-let-me-bend-over-to-pick-up-this-arrow-I-dropped! You've been driving me insane, you know that? Do you know how many times I've wanted to throw you into the nearest supply closet and–" he paused for a moment as if just realizing something.

"And my mustache is cool," he told her, twisting one of the long ends between his fingers to illustrate the extent to which he'd been offended.

"Shut up and come here," Vayne commanded before kicking his feet apart so he was a bit closer to her height, leaning up to kiss him full on the mouth.

Draven scrambled and sputtered and then appeared to suddenly understand what was happening. He hunched over her, wrapping his left arm the whole way around her waist. He still held the axe in his other hand, and she felt the sharp, bladed edge run up the back of her thigh against the leather. The abrupt sensation sent a chill up her spine, parting her mouth with a gasp. Draven was quick to respond to the opening, letting his tongue graze the outline of her teeth before wrestling with her own. Not wanting to completely relinquish to her, Draven forced her back against the opposite wall of lockers and mumbled something she didn't quite catch against her mouth while letting his hands grab harshly at the flare of her hips.

Her ears caught the faint sound of footsteps from the hall that seemed to be approaching. It took a bit of willpower to grasp Draven by the shoulders to force him off. He seemed particularly reluctant to part, nipping her bottom lip between his teeth in a futile attempt to keep her where she was.

"We shouldn't stay here," she mentioned as the footsteps grew louder, ache between her hipbones full and livid as he eyed her hungrily. "Which is closer, your room or mine?"

Though clearly annoyed with the interruption, Draven took the time to ponder anyway, "Mine I think? The Noxian hall ain't too far."

Vayne smirked, her figure vanishing before him to make for an inconspicuous exit, "Lead the way, then."

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After they were behind closed doors and safe from any prying eyes, it didn't take very long for the two of them to continue where they'd left off. Vayne hadn't even waited for the door to lock before shoving Draven against it much like she'd done with the lockers as he fumbled for the metallic button of the doorknob. But he caught up fairly quickly after it clicked, tasting her with his tongue and manhandling her curves.

"I want you," Draven declared hoarsely after they broke contact, only to attack her lips again. With a needlessly grand flourish, he hoisted her on top of his dresser while still attached at the mouth, eagerly tugging the zipper of her jumpsuit downwards. Vayne wrapped her arms around his shoulders and crossed her legs behind him, grinding her hips against his for whatever friction they could manage while still clothed. His attention turned to the skin he'd exposed, marring the column of her neck as he peeled the material further apart for access.

"Good," Vayne replied with a breathless grin before attempting the same of the buckles on his chest plate. It was annoying how his outfit wasn't as simple as hers, and although she'd managed to unclasp a few, it was hard to determine how many were left with the number of straps on the damned thing–

"Ow!" Vayne yelped suddenly, legs untangling themselves and pushing him away.

"What? What'd I do?" Draven panicked in reflex, jumping away from her as if she were threatening to maim him. He gave her a once-over, watching as her hand flew to her side. There was a hole in the leather that clearly hadn't been there before, though there was no puckering of the skin underneath to indicate any wounds. He gave her a nervous chuckle met by an icy glare.

"Must you always wear such spinous armaments?" Vayne muttered, eyeing the jagged points of his armguards indignantly.

"They're signature Draven!" he replied in defense, lifting his arms her in an exaggerated shrug to try and illustrate his point.

"They're neither functional nor stylish," she scoffed, though the lines of his arms swiveling and swaying with the muscle went silently appreciated.

"Alright, alright, they're coming off," Draven surrendered, accepting that Vayne would probably find some way to throw a jab at him, even if she wanted him so badly. As he undid the clasps of his chest armor, the sounds of shuffling behind him indicated that Vayne was doing the same with what her outfit to save them some time. By the time he'd completely undressed, she'd already made herself comfortable on the edge of this bed, beckoning him to join her.

He gladly obliged, parting her legs so that he could crawl over her and meet her with a kiss. She crooned in appreciation and closed her eyes, blindly exploring the expanse of his arms, his shoulders, and further downwards until she found the hard ridge of his cock. Draven grunted, teeth clenching and pressing his forehead against hers as she stroked at the sensitive skin. She found the feral look in his eyes intoxicating, adding in an occasional squeeze or a flick of the thumb over the head and carefully watching his responses before fully closing her fist around his length to pump him. She was rewarded with another growl and his hands groping at her chest, kneading at the soft flesh and rolling her nipples between his fingers in a way that sent jolts of electricity to her core.

It when she felt the first slippery drops of precum that she stopped, taking a moment to lick her fingers clean (making Draven throb involuntarily) before pressing a palm to his chest to edge him backwards. He complied fully, letting her guide him into his back so that she could straddle his wide hips.

"Like this," Vayne instructed, balancing with one hand on his shoulder as she took him in her hands to align herself. Feeling his head against her folds, she guided herself downwards, bringing the tip within her first ring of muscles before letting go and sinking further until he was fully sheathed within her. She winced a bit and made a mental note to never go so long without sex again, but soon after was able to relish the sensation of _finally_ being fucked. Both hands on his shoulders now, the Night Hunter rocked her hips experimentally, feeling the heat pool between her legs. Draven emitted a throaty growl, the muscles of his abdominals flexing as he squirmed beneath her. She'd thought it was all due to his own pleasure until he grabbed her hips to stop her movements.

"W-Wait a sec," he said, holding her steady as he propped himself up into a sitting position. The sudden change in angle made her whimper, but before she could ask what he intended to do, he tucked her chin over his shoulder. He placed one hand on the back of her neck to keep her still while the other carefully unraveled the long band that structured her ponytail, causing the dark strands to fall untamed around her face and. Vayne instinctively reached to neaten them, but was interrupted when he caught her wrists and leaned forwards to kiss her deeply, fervently.

"Much better," Draven told her with a smile that caught her off guard as he released her, scooting them both backwards to set the band on his bedside table. Vayne felt a surge of something flutter in her chest as he eased himself back against the pillows, angled so that he could fully appreciate the view.

It certainly wasn't the first time he'd complimented her, but Vayne suddenly felt very vulnerable.

"You're unbelievable," she eventually muttered, throwing the thought aside for now and positioning herself upright once more, rolling her hips into his with another whine.

"I think it's a little too early for you to be saying that, babe," Draven countered with a devilish smirk as he brought a hand to her hip to aid her movements. Vayne couldn't help but roll her eyes, but also failed to bite back a grin of her own before setting her pace.

With the initial sting far subsided, Vayne reveled in the fullness as she moved up and down. He filled her to stretching, " _So good,"_  she breathed, savoring the thick heat, the slide of him, smooth and easy and even without anything on her clit yet. Her lips parted in a string of cries and moans as she rode him. It felt wonderful.

Draven exhaled roughly, just below a growl, and tightened his arm, pulling them closer together. His mouth landed on her collar bone, his breath moist and hot, and he sucked at the bottom of her neck, tongue swiping out to lick over her skin before dipping lower still. In the midst of her pleasure, Vayne failed to fight back a laugh as the tendrils of his mustache tickled her breasts. He detached himself at the melodic sound, looking at her something wild in his eyes before kissing her again. Her pleased hums became melodic gasps as he swallowed her sweet sounds, bringing one hand to the dip of her back to ease her forward while the other cupped her face, sweeping past the shell of her ear and tangling in her hair.

" _Fuck_ , Vayne," he rasped as they parted, her broken breaths hot against the bridge of his nose. Her hooded eyes threatened to consume him as her hands explored his chest, fascinated at the firm layers of muscle and the lines that mapped them, stopping to bite at their apex on his shoulders as he hit a particularly sweet spot within her.

" _There_ , yes, yes–!" she cried as his hands flew to her hips to check her rhythm while his own thrusts upwards, adding his amazing steady strength to her rising need. Feeling close to her limit, she repositioned, pulling her knees off the mattress and bracing her feet for the angle she craved while locking her arms around his neck. With every shove down her body she just wanted it again, again, harder, vocalizing her need with growing volume and veracity. As the pressure between her legs continued to build, she shoved an arm between them to touch herself in the way she needed while they moved in instinctual tandem.

Vayne's thighs were beginning to quiver, movements losing their pace and unconsciously relenting to his Draven's upward thrusts. The shift of control was quickly noted, and he took the opportunity to grab her firmly by the hips and slam her down onto his cock with enough force to make her scream as she finally hit orgasm. She convulsed and folded against him with a whimper, still shaking as he continued to impale her with the rippling of her walls bringing him closer to his own release.

Tightening his hold, he moved up into her with tiny motions of hands and hips to let him thrust without separating them more than absolutely necessary, wanting nothing more than to stay buried completely inside her. Vayne felt the pressure steadily begin to build again, and with the strength she had left she desperately ground her hips to aid him, feeling his fingers dig into her ass at the added sensation. Feeling as if he were about to burst, Draven did lift her a little then, enough for her to feel the motion properly for his last few jerky strokes, and then she was held tight down against him again. She bit her lip, mewling with pleasure as she felt his dick pulse inside her and watching his forehead knit as he came shuddering once, twice, three times.

The hot, pulsing of his member as her stimulus, the tighter muscles in her lower body pulled as Vayne came again with a triumphant writhe, throwing her head back with a cry, waves of euphoria washing over her before slumping lifelessly against him. Now overly sensitive, she removed her hand moist with slickness and rested her head over the drum of his heartbeat. They stayed like that for a bit, his softening member still a welcome sensation while they took a moment to catch their breaths.

Mental haze beginning to clear, Vayne lifted her chin to eye him, a few raven strands obscuring her view. "I should have asked you to do this years ago," she lazily purred, hands occupying themselves with the lines on his chest again as he curled an arm around her waist.

"Well you didn't really  _ask_ ," Draven corrected her, to which he received a particularly harsh rake down his side. He winced and caught her wrists, instigating a one-sided wrestling match as he slid out of her, refusing to let go. Energy slowly coming back to her, she wriggled to regain control of her arms but was no match for his strength.

"So care to repeat what you said earlier?" He smirked, basking in the natural flush on her face and the heaving of her breasts as she continued to struggle against his hold.

"Hm?" She questioned, stopping her struggling to cant her hips against his half-hard groin. "I think it's a little too early for you to be saying that, babe," she mimicked with a challenging grin.

All at once Vayne found herself on her back, wind completely knocked out of her as the mattress bounced with the sudden shift of gravity.

"You kidding me?" Draven asked, cock fully recovered and prodding at her still slick entrance. "We're just getting started."

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The next morning, Draven found himself as the sole occupant of his bed. He opened his eyes with a grunt, light from the window hitting him with an uncomfortable warmth as his arm blindly searched for the feminine waist it had held only a few hours prior. He eventually sat upright, tired eyes scanning the room for any signs of Vayne. Had it not been for the few dark strands left on his pillow and the way his clothes organized in an uncharacteristically neat pile on his dresser, he might've wondered if she'd even been there at all.

He allowed himself to sigh. He hadn't quite expected her to stay, but he couldn't help but feel kind of…disappointed. Trying to shake the thought away, he looked to the alarm clock on his dresser. The red numbers read 9:47, leaving him with a bit of time before his match at 11 o'clock. Rubbing his eyes in lethargy, he supposed a much needed shower would be a good idea to start with.

He glanced again at the careful arrangement of his armor placed on top of the folded cloth components of his outfit, eventually deciding on a robe instead of disturbing it for now. Slinging a towel over his shoulder, he made his way to the shared showers of the wing. The shock of the running water raining harshly over him helped wake him up a bit, but it also made him more aware of the slightly dull feeling in his chest as he scrubbed away any remaining traces of her.

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"Will you stop that already?"

"Huh?" Draven mumbled, spotting older brother entering the lounge area of the hall he'd been brooding in. "Stop what?"

Darius stared him down, arms crossed and mouth in a stern line, "Stop sulking like a kicked puppy first thing in the morning."

"W-What?" he stammered for a bit before forcing a chuckle, hoping it sounded Draven enough to pass as normal. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You honestly think you can fool me?" The Hand of Noxus said disbelievingly, watching as Draven brought his shoulders down to a lifeless slouch. "And I'm not the only one who's noticed either. Morgana told me you declined one of her specialty muffins during breakfast and that only ever happens when you're in a mood."

"Seriously? It's that obvious?" He wailed despairingly. He shouldn't have been surprised really, the whole transparency thing probably came with the fact that Darius had been the one to change his diapers when they were younger.

"Has something happened?" Darius asked him more seriously, tone hinting urgent, familial concern.

"Uhh…Well…" Draven trailed off, not wanting to worry his brother but also not quite willing to explain. After all, he didn't think,  _'I had the best sex of my life last night with Vayne – can you believe it? But I guess it was just a one night stand and now I'm kind of butthurt about it,'_  would go over very well. For various reasons.

"Ah, just forget it!" Draven waved it off, feeling a headache (and a little bit of heartache) coming on just thinking about it. The answer was obviously unsatisfactory, as his Darius stood unmoving to block his escape, hardened eyes indicating he wasn't backing down until he'd gotten an answer that would put him at ease.

"Draven is totally fine," the axe-wielder tried in the most convincing tone he could muster. "Now if you'll excuse me, my match starts in a few minutes and if anything, I'm sure a little bit of carnage will have me feeling at one hundred–"

"Good afternoon, Draven," a strikingly feminine voice greeted, causing him to whirl around so fast he almost got whiplash.

Speak of the devil, or perhaps she was more of the opposite today, which seemed a bit strange to associate her with. But after giving her a startled once-over, he decided that white suited her just as much as black.

Vayne tilted her head slightly, hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail with wing-like adornments crowning her head and matching the other golden adornments of her outfit. Though it showed more skin than her usual jumpsuits, the ensemble remained modest with its off shoulder straps, protective chest armor, and breezy skirt that flattered the feminine shape of her thighs. The otherworldly glow from her eyes suggested that she had contact lenses in, and although she could have probably done without them, she still looked quite pretty.

Draven hadn't realized he'd been staring until her unnaturally bright gaze blinked at him in expectance. "Ah, uh, good afternoon!" He managed after a couple of tries, giving her a nervous wave. Beside him, Darius eyed the interaction with weary curiosity, though chose to keep silent as he continued to observe the two.

"If you don't mind," she motioned with her usual curtness, indicating she intended to pass. The younger of the two nodded a little too enthusiastically as he jumped out of her way.

"Were you summoned earlier?" Draven asked carefully, not wanting to hint at his previous despair on her account.

Vayne gave a quick nod, far more level-headed than he was after all that had transpired between them, "Since this morning, actually. Three consecutive matches. All victories, of course."

"Wouldn't doubt it," Draven replied, suddenly finding it much easier to breathe as she moved to proceed past them.

"Good luck with your match as well," Vayne told him abruptly with a small smile. "I'll be watching."

It could have been that Draven was a little snow-blind from the glare of her contacts, but for a moment he thought he saw Vayne wink at him. He definitely saw the swing in her hips as she walked though, and not all of it seemed to be for his benefit. It hadn't been so obvious from a distance, but there was a slight wobble to her gait that absolutely conveyed she was having a hard time walking straight.

"Yeah, thanks," he responded cheekily. He wasn't completely sure if she caught his sentiment, but he supposed it didn't matter for now as his eyes continued to follow the jerky sway of her skirt.

Darius waited until the Demacian marksman had completely disappeared before speaking. "I wasn't aware the two of you were so well acquainted," he mentioned with a deliberate undertone to his voice.

"Something like that," he replied with a lively twirl of his axes before strutting down the hall in true Draven fashion.

He was grinning all the way to the summoning platform.


End file.
